Human Error
by StarkyGirl
Summary: John is married, Sherlock is alone and now he has discovered what it means to suffer the biggest error in his life. The human error. Love. When John swings by Sherlock finds he has something to say and it could ruin a lot of things, but what it leads to is certainly now the unknown.
1. Human Error

_**Disclaimer:**_** As much as I'd love to own the lovely Sherlock Holmes and John Watson, I do not. All credit to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and of course the lovely BBC**

_**Bases**_**: JohnLock**

_**Characters**_**: Sherlock Holmes and John Watson**

_**Title**_**: Human Error**

_**Songs that influences this**_**: ****"Say Something" by A Great Big World, Bug in a web (CVPELLV remix) by CallmeKAT**

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Simply a human error. What a foolish mistake to make and by god was he paying for it. Two years gone and now look what he had come back to. John, gone in a blink of an eye, whipped up from his hands, stolen by a woman.

Human error.

His own foolish mistake.

He risked his life for the one man he cared about, the one man that he had planned to keep safe and close to his heart. Oh that heart, what a foolish heart it was. Now here he was staring at what should have been a beautiful sight, his best friend about to propose to his new found love and all Sherlock could do was stare on in upset.

He pronounced himself though, not the way he should have but the hits he received from John proved to him that John still cared even though John punched him pretty hard.

Sherlock stood in the lounge, staring out the window as the rain came down like cold needles on the skin. A deep sigh, the feeling of depression seemed to cloak him. Bloody emotions, he had no time for them. Sherlock Holmes had finally felt every reeling emotion and all because of one man.

He scolded himself silently and turned to see John in the doorway. Sherlock gulped, those green-blue eyes locked on the man who changed his life for the better. "John…" He managed one word, the name of the man he had fallen for. His eyes then trailed down to the left hand of John's, there the wedding ring sat and there was that pang of hurt that followed every time he saw it.

John watched his friend carefully, noting his every deducting look that grazed over John before their eyes met once more. "Mrs Hudson called, you haven't said anything for days, haven't taken a single case…." He gestured to the empty wall above the sofa, "Nothing."

Sherlock clenched his jaw, his fingers curled into fists in order to calm himself, "I haven't… none of them have been…" He shrugged a little, "I miss my blogger I suppose?" He tried to sound casual, tried to sound as if he didn't care, that he no longer needed the support of the one man that made him see the reason to love.

His friend narrowed his eyes at Sherlock, he could see something else was there, something else that Sherlock had to say. "Miss me? Sherlock you don't need me…"

"And you said nothing would change!" Sherlock bit back before realising his mistake and lowering his head and turned back to the window. "You said that I was your best friend, you said this… us, was never going to change," He shook his head and closed his eyes, "He told me not to get involved…" Sherlock whispered softly.

The ex army doctor just caught the last sentence and raised a brow, "Involved? Who said not to… get involved?" He was confused, but then wasn't he? The detective wished it had not come to this, wished that he didn't have to ruin so much in order to tell John. He slowly turned to him, that innocent look in his eyes, "John there is something I need to tell you, something I should have said before…"

"That you, don't have friends, you only have one?" John queried and chuckled a little which soon faded when he noted the look on Sherlock's face. "And I'm wrong about… that…" he shifted his weight to the other foot and tilted his head slightly at Sherlock.

"Mycroft told me not to get involved. With you." He removed a hand from his trouser pocket and then gestured to John, "Told me it was human error, even I said it was human error," He scoffed and ran his free hand through his darkened curls.

"Love is a vicious motivator, assumed that it was a dangerous advantage, a chemical defect… human error," Sherlock paused and hitched a breath; his eyes never once left John. On the other hand John stood there a little confused, Sherlock never spoke of love. "And you were the final proof," Sherlock smiled at him a little.

"I did say it wouldn't change anything. I'm here now, I'm always here," He was confused, more so than he had wanted to be. "What are you trying to tell me?" Just ask him up front, no riddles, no lies, nothing. John and Sherlock, working things out.

The clock was ticking, it was now or never. Sherlock gulped and bit his lips a little. the words of Mary ringing out.

_You don't tell him. You never tell him how you feel about him. _

That wasn't fair Mary Watson, you stole the one man he wanted for himself for the rest of the days he was still standing. "John there is something I should say. It was something I have wanted to say for so long now," He stepped a little closer both hands now out of pockets and eyes on John the whole time.

"You, it was always you. John Watson you keep me right," He pressed his hands together, fingertips pointed towards the one man he had risked his life for. "It was all but a magic trick, for myself, to disguise how I really felt."

John could feel his heart pump so hard that he honestly believed it would pierce though his chest. It hurt, but there was a little he could do or say now could he? He knew what was coming and in all honesty he was glad he didn't have to deny it any more.

"I didn't want to get involved, brother warned me, my morals warned me and yet here I am. Standing before you telling you…" Sherlock gulped, the next few words would change their lives for good.

"I love you…"

John felt his legs attempt to collapse beneath his weight when he heard those words. How could he? Sherlock didn't love and yet it seemed he did.

"Human error," John repeated as he stared at Sherlock, "That's why Moriarty lived, because you…" He stole a trembled breath, unable to feel his body, feel the flutter in his heart beat. How, why? So many questions but there were one that rest in his mind. How had he missed this?

Sherlock could see he was thinking, he didn't want to ruin the one thing John had found on his own, his own little life with Mary but Sherlock was and always will be a selfish man. "John?" The silence hanging over them was painful.

John let a small smile slip across his lips, "Bloody hell Sherlock, where did we go wrong?" The pair began to laugh but then, that one look they shared in that very moment. Sherlock found himself heading straight for John who in return was doing the same.

Once in reach, arms entangled around a body, lips caressed the others with such passionate want for each other. It was always just the two of them against the rest of the world and no one was going to tell them any different.

'_I'm not gay' John always protested. He never looked at a man, never even dreamed of it until now, with Sherlock._

John's fingers tangled in those messy curls of Sherlock's, inhaling sharply as their tongues sought each other out. Sherlock's hands grasped at John's waist, finding the need to pin him but it seemed John had more to show than just what was hidden on the surface.

John found the confidence to push him down onto the sofa, to truly prove how he felt for Sherlock and by god was it a dream he thought would be left to die with the other dreams he had in life. This was all so real, all too much to process but he was soon enough processing it when Sherlock's hands grasped his shoulders and parted lips. "J-John…" Sherlock spoke softly.

John stared down at him, a look of shock on his face, "Sherlock, I'm so sorry…" He moved to sit up but Sherlock caught his shirt in slender fingers and hauled him back to him, "N-No, don't go. I was enjoying that."

For the first time in Sherlock's life, after everything he had suffered for John, believing he had lost him to some woman who was a psychopath, he finally felt at ease.

John finally knew how he felt and was glad that he was so accepting of it. For now it would be their little secret and he was happy to have made a human error like this.

Funny thing, the human brain, you never knew when it was going to choose to do something crazy like falling love.


	2. Memories in the First Floor Window

Hello my lovelies!  
Shocked are we? Well so am I! I started writing a new JohnLock fanfic and a good friend of mine suggested that I start up chapters on Human Error. Well I heeded her advice and went with it and look how beautiful the pair became ;D  
Enjoy some fluff my dears, who knows where it might all lead?

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**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from Sherlock, credit goes to all respective owners. **

**Bases: JohnLock**

**Characters: John Watson, Sherlock Holmes**

**Title: Memories in the First Floor Window**

**Summary: Sherlock and John have been with each other for a couple of weeks now and John cannot believe that he is Sherlock's. Now he realises one thing, he can't find the right words to tell him. **

**Songs that inspired: 'All of me' by John Legend, '****Paralyzed' by Finger Eleven, 'Hallelujah' by Jeff Buckley.**

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Weeks, it had been weeks since Sherlock had admitted his feelings to John, that it was just human error and a beautiful one at that. John had never even considered that Sherlock would even fall in love, let alone in love with him. Since the session on the sofa all those weeks ago, his marriage fell apart, he just couldn't look at Mary the same way any more.

Sherlock had supported him the whole time, did his best to not insult the man he had fallen in love with. John appreciated it, having someone there to guide him through so much. At the start of it all John was ready to give up but Sherlock lit up his life, became the man he needed him to be.

The ex army doctor felt like nothing at all, stumbling here and there, falling all the time but it seemed Sherlock had caught him at the right point in time and hauled him back on his feet. Sherlock may think that John kept him right but in all honesty John thought Sherlock kept him right and did it so well.

He'd follow Sherlock to the ends of the Earth it meant keeping him close, to have the detective keeping him on his feet. They were addicted to each other but it was more than just an addiction, it was a bond, an attachment, an affectionate love that neither wanted to let go of.

John wanted to tell Sherlock how he really felt about him and damn did he struggle to. All these years they had been friends, all the things they had suffered together and without each other. John had watched Sherlock 'die' and Sherlock had rescued John countless times. They were life buoys in each other's lives.

"I love you."

Words that dripped with want, desire, affection. Love. Sherlock had rarely said those words to anyone and here he was, uttering them countless times during love making, cuddles on the sofa, a brief whisper while working, even said with nothing but their eyes. The way Sherlock's eyes wrinkled up and formed such loving crow's feet wrinkles at the corner of his crystal clear eyes, how John would offer up a loving touch. Oh how their hearts had been cured of such flu, the icy coldness that had built within them cured by a growing love.

John needed to tell Sherlock how much he mattered to him, how much he cared for the detective and why he did so, how Sherlock had such crazy affects on him, the trances he held upon John Watson.

As of now John stood in the kitchen as the kettle boiled, a small box fumbled between fingers as he waited for Sherlock to return home. A smile tugged at John's lips, a haze of light brown hidden behind eyelids as he thought on things. The kettle clicked off as it boiled forcing John from such sweet thoughts, hands fumbling to ram the box in his pocket.

Minutes later John was emerging from the kitchen to see Sherlock walk into the ever famous 221B Baker Street, tugging his coat off and hanging it up before the scarf that encased Sherlock's gorgeous neck followed suit. In moments the detective was smoothing out his blazer and turned to see John standing in the doorway of the kitchen, a cup of tea in either hand. "Evening, John," Sherlock paced over to him and took the cup from him, made perfectly to his requirements.

The ex army doctor smiled lovingly as Sherlock took the tea from his hand, "Evening, how was work?"  
Sherlock simply shrugged and head over to the window, watching the quiet street below. It seemed that Sherlock had been distracted by the thought of having his new drug when he got home. A bit of good old John Watson was enough to get Sherlock's mind working in over drive. "Tedious but I got there in the end, thankfully. It would have been better if I had my blogger there." He glanced over his shoulder and smirked at John who chuckled softly, "How was work anyway?" Sherlock finally added.

John knew why Sherlock had asked, considering Mary had been his secretary it would have been hard but it seemed his 'wife' had decided best to leave. "Erm... yea fine..." John murmured as he walked over to Sherlock and joined him at the window. "Look, I am sorry I couldn't come with you today but it was important that I sort everything out with the surgery." Sherlock didn't look at John, he just nodded and sipped his tea. He hated the idea of John working away from him but nevertheless it had to be done, "It's fine John, I wouldn't have asked it of you knowing that things need to be sorted."

For a while the pair stood there, looking out the window in a comfortable silence. John's hand slowly slipped down his side from his cup, gently brushing against Sherlock's fingers that hung at his own side. Without even looking, Sherlock hooked his fingers with John's, smiling inwardly by the touch. The time was getting closer, John had to tell him everything that was on his mind, to lavish the detective with such beautiful words.

He placed the cup on the side table and turned to Sherlock. The younger man raised a brow as he watched John move to look at him. The ex army doctor hitched a breath and smiled up at his beloved. "Sherlock, I..." He paused, feeling the nerves encase his throat, stopping him from speaking but he cleared his throat and went on. "Sherlock, I haven't thanked you for your help these past few weeks. No, correction these last few years. You have done more than enough for me, I was so alone and I owe you so much. You've kept me going and above all you gave me reason to it all."

Sherlock was taken back by the suddenness of John's loving confessions that were being laid upon him.

John ploughed on however without interruptions, "I wouldn't have a clue what I would do without that smart mouth of yours, how you draw me in and then randomly kick me out hours later. You really have got my head spinning and I have no idea how to pin you down, no idea what is going on in that superb mind of yours. It seems you always want me on that crazy ride you seem to be persistently stuck on..."

Sherlock laughed softly at that last comment, he had always wanted John there and to show off to him. He wanted John to know the amazing things he knew and could see that no one else could, to give his gift to John as a sign of his own love for the man but it just seemed so hard.

"However you make me incredibly dizzy with the rushing around, the fast paced thinking but yet it still amazes me, I'm still searching for words to express my amazement about you. Sometimes I feel like I am drowning but I'm breathing fine because you hold me there so perfectly. However, that's not just it, I love you and I don't just mean you, I mean all of you. Your brains, your brawn, your looks and... well everything really," John chuckled softly, feeling his cheeks flush with a pink hue but it seemed Sherlock was still listening to him.

"I would never ask much from you, Sherlock. All I ask is for the same amount of love that I have shown you to be returned just as much. I know neither of us are perfect but you are to me and that is enough, well so I hope." His free hand brushed through his hair nervously, his stomach doing flips and having Sherlock just stare at him with a cold expression that never seemed to change really made things a whole lot harder.

In Sherlock's head, things had gone blank, words escaped him and for once Sherlock could honestly say John calmed his raging thoughts, the plans and ideas. He made it still, like the silence of a deserted place. It was beautiful to have nothing to think about right in that moment, hence his sudden inability to not move.

John's hand tightened on Sherlock's a little more, gulping hard as he plucked up the courage to finish what he started, "That day I thought I lost you, and I cried, I cried so hard and I didn't care who saw..."

That caused a trigger to snap in Sherlock's mind, "I told you, when you cry you're beautiful just as much as when you're not..." He had seen John cry after he broke up with Mary, how hard it had been on him. Sherlock had suffered through every mood that John went through, paying back the favour from times before. John stared at him and blushed, "I know... but just... just let me finish please?" Sherlock nodded and fell silent once more.

"You are a man who inspires my muse but you also are my downfall because you are the biggest distraction in my life, just as I am in yours." The pair laughed mainly because it was highly true. Sherlock found it hard to concentrate on cases with John around but he wouldn't have it any other way. "If you will, if you would give me all of yourself to me, lay the cards on the table... hearts on sleeves, then I shall show that I will risk everything for you no matter how hard it gets because I fell in love with you and it's you who I want to give my life to."

Sherlock could feel the nipping of tears in his eyes, his lips curling into a sweet smile and his hand curled around John's even more. Never had he been told such compassionate words but the next thing would force his breath and words to catch in his throat.

John slipped to one knee, his fingers grasping out a small box from his trouser pocket. Sherlock stared down at the man with narrowed eyes, a furrowed brow to accompany such glistening yet hard eyes. "John? What are you doing?"

The ex army man drew his gaze up to Sherlock, "I know you said that the name William Sherlock Scott Holmes doesn't sound right, that you do not like it but... I'm hoping that William Sherlock Scott Watson might sound a tad better?" With those words he snapped open the box, revealing a white gold band within it. Sherlock stared at John and then at the ring, unable to breathe as his mind exploded into over ride. He played the name over and over in his head, how beautiful John's surname sounded with his own.

There was no response for sometime and John was panicking as he rest upon the floor, "Sherlock? An answer would be nice, kind of a hard floor down here?"

Still nothing.

"Sherlock? Say something, I'm giving up on this idea rather rapidly," John chuckled nervously as he could see the cogs working in Sherlock's mind. Suddenly a light squeeze was delivered to John's hand and in that instant Sherlock gulped hard and began to breathe again, "I... erm. You want me to be yours? As in marriage?" John nodded eagerly, wanting a bloody answer so he could get to his feet.

The detective barely blinked as he stood there, staring down at his lover. He slipped a free hand under John's chin and gently guided him upwards to his feet. Once standing, Sherlock leaned close and caught such exquisite lips with his. It was a tender kiss, one of love and trust and utter care. After a short few seconds, their lips parted and Sherlock nodded, "Yes, I would be honoured to be a Watson. I'd be twice as honoured if you became a Holmes as well."

Never had John felt so relieved as he had now in that moment that Sherlock nodded. The kiss could have gone two ways, a kiss to accept or a kiss to reject, to say goodbye and never come back again. Thankfully it was the former. What made it even better was that Sherlock wanted to share his name with John as well and honestly, John loved the idea, "Sherlock Watson-Holmes?"

"John Holmes-Watson..." Sherlock corrected his lover and laughed softly before pressing his forehead against Watson's, noses touches and lips almost in reach. They were smiling like fools, in love so madly and nothing could rip them apart.

Why would wise men say only fools fall in love, that they rush in? What if you were meant to be, that you couldn't help falling love with someone no matter who they were or what people thought? That had been the case with John, he worried what others thought but he couldn't help fall in love with Sherlock.

Sherlock on the other hand struggled with his own emotions, realising that some things were just meant to be and he had accepted that once he had learnt how to deal with it. Love was not a victory march but in his mind he was proud of what he had enticed into his life, the man that had instantly accepted him. That was enough for him.

It seemed the window of 221B Baker Street was slowly collecting such sweet, blissful memories of he and John Watson and Sherlock was perfectly happy with that.


	3. Pale Thoughts

**_Disclaimer:_****As much as I'd love to own the lovely Sherlock Holmes and John Watson, I do not. All credit to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and of course the lovely BBC**

**_Bases_****: JohnLock**

**_Characters_****: Sherlock Holmes and John Watson**

**_Title_****: Pale Thoughts**

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The nightmares ripped his thoughts wide open, forced him to awaken in such cold sweats that he was sure to receive frostbite from it.

John Watson, the ex army doctor was having panic attacks over such a simple thing, how petty. He pulled himself up and rubbed his eyes before exhaling rather deeply. This night by far had been the worst and by god was he pleased that Sherlock rarely came to bed, he'd guess right away what the problem was if he had.

The majestic sound of the violin floated down the hall where it accumulated by the door, where John could hear it as he lay in bed. He wanted to calm himself before he head to the lounge, he couldn't let Sherlock see the worry he had, the fact a nightmare had torn apart his very need to sleep.

He glanced at the clock briefly and furrowed his brow. Yet again Watson was awake at 3am and yet again he was aching for sleep but he was so wide awake that it seemed pointless. The bed covers were tugged back from his slightly trembling body, a soft sigh escaping him.

Sherlock paused in his playing violin and glanced over his shoulder to where he heard the ever faint sound of the bed creaking. Sherlock caught sight of the time and tilted his head. This was most unusual for Watson to be up at these hours, he was a man of lazy intentions, even John had admitted to that.

However Sherlock carried on playing, he'd keep an ear out in case he was needed.

John clambered out of bed, tugging on trousers and his stripy jumper. If he was awake, then so be it, he would act exactly like that. Recently he had been using his stick, the psychosomatic limp had come back to haunt him and Sherlock had noticed this.

The doctor head out of the bedroom, hobbling into the kitchen to grab some tea. A small smile passed his lips when he heard Sherlock was still playing a rather wondrous tune. Occasionally John would ask if Sherlock could play something that John liked. Mendelssohn 's Lieder was a favourite of John's and thus Sherlock would play it when he felt John needed the subtle motivation in life.

This morning was no different in all honesty, as John walked into the lounge with tea in hand, Sherlock was playing that exact tune. "Morning, Watson."

John nodded and pressed the cup to his lips, his eyes closing for a brief second. He allowed the soothing music to wash over him, calming the once terrifying thoughts that had awoken him.

Sherlock stood by the window, clad in his usual white shirt, black trousers and his deep blue, silk robe. The violin was perched between chin and shoulder, the bow perfectly flicked and slipped across the threads with pure grace, composing notes together perfectly. John had always been astounded that Sherlock could perform from memory like this but then he should have expected it.

Sherlock smiled slightly as he watched John relax, he had already noted John was suffering from something while he slept so to see him relax like he did made him smile. He snapped his gaze away when John opened his eyes. John said nothing though, not wanting to interrupt.

The bow grated across the threads and came to a sudden halt. Sherlock set the violin down on the table, bow rest a top of it. He turned to John and sat in his chair opposite. "You're up early, you're also using your stick again..."

John couldn't get his cup from his lips quick enough, "No... No, no, no. Do not even think about trying to deduct me!" he put his cup to one side and snatched up yesterdays newspaper, hiding behind it so Sherlock couldn't carry on.

The detective narrowed his eyes and huffed, "I'm trying to... Are you ok? John, I'm just being... Concerned." Sherlock never found it easy to express his concerns so this was just an achievement for him.

The newspaper slowly drifted down from his face, eyes peering over the top of it. "Sherlock, I'm fine. Honestly I am ok," John reassured him, hoping Sherlock would take it and leave it at that.

Sherlock's jaw tightened a little as John lied blatantly to his face. He could see something awful had affected John, after all he was relying heavily on his stick to keep his limp from tumbling him over. Sherlock had even noticed the odd times John was waking up. He had stayed quiet for weeks now about it but he was slowly growing worried about John.

His fingers drummed against the arm of the chair, eyes narrowed on John the entire time he sat there. Eventually Sherlock sighed and figured out John's mysterious problem, "Nightmares?"

John glanced up and raised a brow at Sherlock, "Would you stop? I said to you I am fine."

The detective blinked at him a fair few times before speaking, "I am assuming yes because you instantly jumped to defence. Right, well then, if that is the case it is referring to the war? Mainly because your limp has returned and yet you were hit in the shoulder not the leg." His slender fingers gestured to John's leg, brows knitted together as if he was daring John to tell him different.

John hitched a breath and shrugged lazily, "It's nothing to do with the war, Sherlock."

"So, you are having nightmares? Not war but... Friends?" It was an assumption, generally those with PTSD also suffered large losses of friends. "John, is there something you're not telling me?"

Watson hated it when Sherlock deducted him when all John wanted was him to leave well alone. Like he had a choice. "Sherlock, I'm begging you, please do not do this," he gave him a look of pleading mixed with warning signals as his cheek twitched slightly.

Sherlock inhaled and nodded, he had suddenly realised what it was that had John Watson waking up, raked in cold sweats and his world rocked with horror. The nightmares were about him, of his previous jump off of St Bartholomew's roof top. He was a fool and felt guilty for even asking. "My apologies.," He murmured and glanced away, grabbing up some tea that he had made previous.

It wasn't often that John heard Sherlock apologise in such a way, not the he minded, it just occasionally caught him off guard. For John though, the nightmares were simply filled with dread and panic. The never ending image, the constant flow of Sherlock hitting concrete and the blood that seeped across the floor. It was too much to handle even if it were fake.

John closed his eyes for a few brief moments, he inhaled deeply, the sudden flashbacks hit him hard and forced John to his feet and scurry to the bathroom. The second he flew in there, Sherlock glanced up in surprise before concern was the most dominate feature on his face. He threw his cup down and head after John.

In a rather rushed manner, Sherlock was hammering his fist against the locked door. On the other side of the door, John was heaving and retching, throwing up the tea he just drank and anything else that resided in his stomach. Everything ached, his back felt like it was being ripped in two, his arms tensed so hard John swore he ripped a tendon. He was panting between sessions of throwing up, unable to block out Sherlock shouting his name and smashing his hand to the door.

"John! John let me in!" There was panic in his gruff yet stern voice as he tried to get John to respond. He winced when he heard the harsh sounds of retching rip through his lover's throat, feeling hopeless that he couldn't help.

When John felt he couldn't empty his stomach any more and the burn of stomach acid was left in his mouth, he finally stood up and flushed the toilet before unlocking the door.

Sherlock stumbled in, coming face to face with a deathly looking John, sat on the edge of the bath tub and panting like a dog. Sherlock grasped up John's tooth brush and toothpaste before sitting next to John, "Let me... Help..." he murmured, gently reaching up with his free hand to run along John's jaw line.

John glanced at Sherlock as directed, bloodshot and tear filled eyes looking at Sherlock in such a way, any one would have thought John was high. "I'm sorry, " He murmured, closing his eyes as Sherlock began to place the paste upon brush and offered to clean the acid taste from John's mouth. He sensed that John would be too weak to do it himself. John complied in an instant, jaw slack and open so his teeth could be cleaned. Sherlock was ever so careful with John, holding his jaw gently so he could scrub away. He made sure he brushed every part of John's mouth before letting him spit in the sink and wash his mouth out.

It was a sad sight, Sherlock felt awful for pushing John into this state. As John leaned against the sink, Sherlock cleaned the tooth brush off before turning to John and running his fingers through John's hair, "Come, let me take you back to bed?" he spoke softly and sweetly, easing John as best as he could.

John nodded and went to walk but his limp dragged him south and tested Sherlock's reflexes. A hand slipped under his legs and one around his back, Sherlock hauled him up into his arms and carried him to their bedroom.

Moments later, John was set on a chair. The sheets were damp from his previous fit and Sherlock was instantly deciding to strip the bed so John could sleep in a more comfy state.

A few minutes later, a pile of messy sheets and pillowcases rest on the floor, John now resting on a perfectly made bed in the fetal position. Sherlock decided to slip into bed beside him, in which John was instantly resting his head on Sherlock's chest, listening to the sweet beat of Sherlock's heart.

In return, Sherlock trailed his hand through John's hair, a small smile on his lips, "You're safe now, John. I'm here and that is all, I'm never leaving you again ok?" He spoke with such a loving tone, kissing the top of Watson's head. John had never felt so calmed as he had now.

"I just wish they would stop, the nightmares. It's been like this for..."

"Weeks? Precisely, six at the minimum?" Sherlock interrupted in which John nodded and sighed at the thought that Sherlock already knew he was having nightmares. "Any idea what may have brought them on?" Sherlock questioned, incredibly concerned to why his lover was raked with so much pain.

John shook his head, hiding the reason behind a mental block. He didn't want to think about it in all honesty. Sherlock sighed and held him close, pressing a light kiss to John's head. "It's ok, I'm here to look after you now," Sherlock whispered lovingly as John clasped his arms around him.

The early hours of the silent morning were spent with Sherlock cuddling John until he fell asleep, not letting go even when his blogger was out cold. Sherlock raked his fingers through John's ash blonde hair, a kiss to his forehead followed. He blamed himself deeply for John's suffering.

The alarm rang out at 8am, John came to only to find Sherlock dozing lightly. He smiled slightly at the sight for it was a rare one. After shifting just enough, John leaned up and pressed a kiss to Sherlock's cheek which awoke the sleeping detective with ease, "Morning."

Those ever so odd coloured eyes opened slowly, gazing down to meet John's brown ones, "I see you slept the rest of the morning without issue?" He smiled kindly and pressed a kiss to John's forehead.

"I guess you cure the nightmares," John shrugged, secretly loving the kiss to his head. He gave Sherlock a tight squeeze before yawning and sitting up. "I've got work today, also Lestrade left a message asking you show up at his office at 11..." John sat up and stretched as he spoke, "... Something concerning a case he picked up yesterday morning."

Sherlock groaned, he'd already planned three experiments and a run down to the morgue to see Molly about an experiment he had conducted a few days earlier. On top of that he wanted to pop in and see John while he had his afternoon break but it looked like Lestrade came first. They both knew a case was a case, it had to be taken or they'd have no rent for the next few months.

John stretched as he got out of bed, his spine clicking in a rather gruesome way. Sherlock let a lazy hand trail up John's back and drew a few shudders from him, "Do I have to?" he sighed, just wanting to cuddle in bed with John so he knew he really was better.

With the whined request of Sherlock, John chuckled and nodded, "For me? And if it is a boring case then you can get me back for it." He smirked and winked at Sherlock before getting to his feet and tugged his top off to change.

Slender fingers caressed within dark curls atop of the pillow, Sherlock turned his head to watch John get dressed. Gosh, he wanted to be able to hold him forever, keep him safe but he had failed even with that.

A few minutes later, John was dressed in his usual white shirt, the dark tie contrasted against it. Sherlock had not moved from the bed as he watched him dress. Never would he pass up the opportunity to watch John cover up his body. Or undress it for that matter. Once dressed, John turned to face Sherlock and was shocked to find him in bed still, "I thought you were getting ready to go see Lestrade?"

Sherlock merely shrugged in return, closing his eyes as he lay there, "No."  
John found that was a little blunt but he shrugged it off, "And why not?" He leaned over and poked Sherlock's side. The detective wiggled a little from the poke and opened an eye at him, "No. I have things to do that are more important. I will see him when I see him..." He waved a hand and huffed, "I have experiments to finish off back at the lab."

Well of that was how he was going to be then fine. All John could do was simply shrug, "Alright, well just let him know when you can go over..." He glanced at his watch and sighed, "Right, I have work to do so I'll see you later." John leaned over and kissed Sherlock sweetly on the lips and smiled, "Please don't forget to eat breakfast?" He smiled before heading out of the bedroom.

Sherlock sighed, wishing the kiss lasted longer, more so and end up in bed with him again but he knew once John had work on mind then he would not halt until he did his job. "I'll eat, I promise!" Sherlock called out and waved goodbye.

The moment John was out the door, his eyes snapped down to the ring on his hand and a smile formed on his lips. It seemed perfect did it not? Marrying his blogger, the man who was as broken as he was? Yes, in Sherlock's mind that was incredibly perfect. He finally hauled himself up to his feet and tugged on his black suit trousers and then his shirt. He took his time to carefully tuck it in before turning to look in the mirror above the mantelpiece. It would do. His fingers ruffled his unruly curls, making them bounce with a sense of excitement that they were going out, to see the world, the world was going to see them.

A few moments later he was changed, his jacket on to cover the tight fitting shirt and smirked to himself a little. John loved it when his shirts were tight, he had so many a time since they had been together. With that in mind he slipped into his ever so famous coat and scarf before heading out to the morgue where he planned to sit down with Molly and discuss last weeks experiment.

John, at the clinic was struggling with his usual daily load. Right now he had Mrs Denton chewing off his ear, claiming her hip was sore. He had done everything for this woman and yet she still strolled in with a huff on her lips and anger in her eyes. Why would she not just shut up?! "Mrs Denton, I understand and I have prescribed you a repeat prescription and on top of that, sent you to the hospital for x-rays in order to see what is causing the pain. At the very least, try to keep to these schedules..."

Well that appointment didn't end very well. John slammed his head against the desk, eyes shut as a sigh escaped him. He heard the door open slightly, assuming it was his assistant until the bristling sensation of fingers against the back of his neck made him turn his head to glance up, "Sherlock!" He exclaimed, jumping to his feet and wrapping his arms around the slender detective.

Sherlock couldn't help but laugh softly as his blogger coiled himself around him, "Hello John, I thought I should pop by to see how you are. Lucky I did I suppose?" He gestured to the desk when John parted and smiled up at him with relief.

A finger came up to scratch his eyebrow, John's infamous tick that he used around Sherlock was something Sherlock loved seeing, "Ah yes. One rather moody patient, a few screaming kids and a tired mother later and I have just about had enough. That is just the morning and no lunch.." John slumped down in his chair and sighed, rubbing his eyes.

His sweet little hedgehog, Sherlock couldn't get over the fact that when Watson was tired, he looked like a cute hedgehog who wanted to just curl up. He slipped off his scarf and draped it over the back of the vacant chair and came over to John before slipping into his lap. He curled long fingers around John's chin and made him look up so their gazes met. John couldn't resist losing himself in the paled, oddly coloured gaze that Sherlock possessed.

"Why must you over work yourself, Watson. You know I rather you come home de-stressed, it's bad enough that you have to put up with me," Sherlock teased before pressing his lips against John's for a sweet kiss. John was instantly returning the loving kiss. When parted he smiled, feeling so much better now, "I know you do, but work is work and I have to do it I am afraid." John's fingers danced along Sherlock's back, tracing circles and the occasional heart. Sherlock chuckled softly at this, amazed that John was very much in love with him.

"Yes well, perhaps a night in. You and I, take away and a movie may unwind you?" Sherlock suggested which honestly surprised John, "Erm, of course. Are you going to get the stuff then because if so, I will be surprised!" He laughed and buried his nose against Sherlock's neck, breathing in his musky scent. Sherlock allowed a smirk ghost across his lips, a hand caressing through John's hair, "I shall just this once... but once ok? Don't think this will happen all the time ok?" He laughed and then gave him a tight squeeze. John loved it, agreeing instantly, "Of course, I expect no less!"

With all the giggles and joys of their tiny breaks between work, today came with some gloom. Sherlock's laugh had faded after a joke about something that happened earlier on that morning at the morgue. He had seen the look on John's face and sighed, "Ok, tell me. What happened in that damn dream of yours because it is starting to worry me. Have you used your cane today?" He glanced to the corner and confirmed his hunches. The cane rest nearby, waiting to be used. He rolled his eyes and huffed as he then caught John's expression, "Sherlock I told you I am fine so just leave it!"

Sherlock shook his head, leaned over and grasped John's hands in his, "I am supposed to be marrying the one man I have wished to be with for so long. Hiding secrets from me now tells me that this will happen later on and that worries me. If you cannot talk to me about this then at least tell me why? Have I said something wrong?"  
John shook his head, wanting to pull away but instead his fingers wrapped around Sherlock's, silently begging for him to never let go of him, "Sherlock, you have done nothing wrong. This is just a silly panic attack that has been haunting me for god knows how long all because of something you did not long back."

In his head, buried deep in his mind palace, Sherlock had no recalled what it was John began to panic over. The roof top killing, the case where he stood on the edge of a building to determine how a man fell dead, back onto the roof. It must have trigged something in John. Replaying it now in his head, the way his lover tensed at the crime scene, how his fingers curled into fists as he forced himself to not leap over and grasp Sherlock off the edge.

"I'm sorry..."

John raised a brow at the softly spoken words before letting a sigh escape him, "Sherlock..." He began, pressing a hand to the detective's cheek, "… it's not your fault. It's just how my brain works and in this case it chose not to..." He shrugged and kissed Sherlock.

Sherlock's hand came up and grasped John's off his cheek, "We need to discuss this and I need to apologise because it was highly silly and insensitive of me to take those actions. I should have considered how you felt."  
John laughed and shook his head, pressing a finger against his lips, "No... Sherlock shush a minute. You're not supposed to be sensitive or whatever. You do your job and then you move on. Look, I am here and alive and perfectly ok."

Sitting in John's lap, Sherlock was unsure if John was just trying to shut him up or he did mean it, "John, you cannot just not talk about it. The nightmares will only get worse and you know that!" John nodded in agreement but Sherlock went on, "Even if you cannot talk to me about it then see someone. I fear one night I'll wake up and you've died from a heart attack or something."

John laughed at this and nuzzled against Sherlock, "Ok... Ok, I will go see someone and talk to you when I feel up to it. Fair?" Sherlock nodded, pleased with this before kissing him on the lips once more, "Now that is settled, movie night and Chinese. Yes?" Sherlock suggested with a wide smile.

"I would love to, my dear Holmes!" John responded with a grin, "I will return around five so aim for then ok?" He winked and hugged Sherlock tightly before letting go. Sherlock then slipped elegantly from John's lap and grasped his scarf to wrap it around his neck, "Good day to you doctor Watson," He nodded to him before heading for the door. John simply giggled softly, "Good bye Holmes!"


	4. Domestic Love

Author's note: These past few days have become a real mess emotionally, I've stocked up on a ton of JohnLock and Mystrade fanfics and I am telling you now, I am glad they are keeping me sane. I wrote this in honour of my best friend who I miss dearly now she is at college but nevertheless the game is still on. I hope you enjoy, please leave comments, critique etc and perhaps I might randomly type up another fic in the space of three hours this week! :) ~ StarkyGirl

* * *

**Disclaimer:As much as I'd love to own the lovely Sherlock Holmes and John Watson, I do not. All credit to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and of course the lovely BBC**

**Bases: JohnLock with the hint of Mystrade**

**Characters: Sherlock Holmes and John Watson **

**Title: Domestic Love**

* * *

Never had Sherlock seen a gem glitter so perfectly in the natural light of the warming sun in Autumn as the one on his finger did. He swore his heart had skipped many a beat when his odd coloured eyes grazed over the sparkle of the ring. It was a swelling pride in his chest that he just couldn't seem to shake it, not that he wanted to because damn, he truly was in love with John Watson.

The bedroom door clicked open, Sherlock barely glanced over from the sofa to the doorway to the kitchen as he heard John shuffle out of his room. A smile ghosted across his perfectly defined lips before he sat up and straightened out his robe.

John trundled in looking rather much half awake and tea in his hand while the newspaper was in the other. "Morning John," Sherlock piped up, a grin on his lips while his fingers unconsciously fiddled with the ring on his finger. Just another tick of his to tell him he really was with John, that he had won after so long. The small victories.

The doctor settled into his chair and nodded over to Sherlock with half a smile, "Morning." It was merely a soft whisper upon his lips, as he allowed his body to wake up in it's own time. Sherlock loved to watch that occur, to see him look like a sleepy baby animal. Never had he thought like this before but John had awoken the more human part of him and thus he relished in it when it was all about John.

A slow blink and John looked up Sherlock to see what he classed as a goofy smile upon Sherlock's face. He chuckled softly at the sight, "Looks like you've had a good morning. New case?" Sherlock smirked at John's attempt at deduction. Well he tried and that was fine with Sherlock. "No, no. Just appreciating the good things in life," This caught John's attention, his lips almost touching the rim of the cup, eyes hard on Sherlock as he tried to read the ever so unpredictable Sherlock Holmes. He failed to do so, in return he simply raised his brow and tilted his head in curiosity, "Erm, since when did you... ever think on the good things in life?"

Sherlock stared at John with a some what hurt look, clearing his throat and getting to his feet. His feet made their way to the window and thus from there, the detective tugged back the netted curtains to look at the street below. "Since the day I let you go," He murmured, lowering his gaze.

John wasn't sure if he should have been in a state of surprise or laugh because he really had no idea how to take the way Sherlock was acting these past few days. It had been pleasant mornings, kisses to wake up to or the caressing touches of Sherlock's supple fingertips against the rough flesh of his sides. It was most unusual to even wake up to find Sherlock in bed with him still, even the days they had cases but he took it as it came. By god did he treasure every moment.

Now, as he sipped his tea and watched Sherlock stand at the window, he noted there was something new about Sherlock. "Sherlock, you knew you was coming back. Why panic over the fact of me not being here?" That was a silly thing to say in all honesty, John could tell it was by the way Sherlock glanced over at him. Brow furrowed, eyes narrowed. Still beautiful. "John, I came home to see you with another. You then proceeded to tell me that nothing was to change which it did and you couldn't see that. I thought I had lost you at the point and yet..." He paused and let loose a sigh, "Walking away from you was just as hard on me as it was to make you stand there and watch me. Die!" He flailed a hand and shook his head.

All Sherlock wanted John to see was the simple fact that Sherlock really appreciated him for coming to his senses and loving him the way Sherlock had to John in utter secret and for so long. John sat there in utter silence, for every time he had blamed Sherlock for the anger he felt towards that stupid stunt, when they had arguments or upsets, John had never considered how Sherlock had felt about it all. He placed the cup on the side table, hands resting back on the arm of the chair as he studied Sherlock who was staring at him with a rather intent stare. "Sherlock, I am sorry. I wish you had said something sooner, I would have sat down and talked it out," But he knew Sherlock would have never said anything until he couldn't take it any more.

Sherlock turned away, snapping his hard stare out onto the street below. His shuddered with upset but hid it well enough from John. He did love the man but he constantly struggled in a daily battle to tell John this. Finally after much silence between both men, John got up and rushed over to Sherlock and slipped his hands around Sherlock's waist and buried his head against his back. "I love you, Sherlock. I don't want you to ever think I don't."

The taller man of the two twisted his body round just enough to gaze down at John and kiss him sweetly on the lips, "John, I never said you do not love me. I am just incredibly happy about what we have and I want to be able to express that but being that I, in no way, have the ability to do that, it tends to come out as insults or arguments. You know I do not mean it, which is why I am forever enraptured by you, how you seem to love me even though I am the most difficult to love." He took a breath after that little speech and smiled down at John who seemed incredibly stunned by everything Sherlock had said. Sentiment.

John gave him another tight squeeze and chuckled, "Of course. Well that is what happens when you love someone so much." Sherlock grinned and brushed his fingers through the sandy blonde hair of John's. He then leaned down and kissed the top of his head, increasingly enjoying domestic life with his dear Watson. "I do have a case though, must inform you of such."

This made John remove his arms from Sherlock and fall to his side, gazing up at him with that ever so familiar expression of I-thought-so-you-bloody-liar. Sherlock smirked to see such a face, slipping past John and tugged off his robe to hang it up on the coat stand, "I suggest you get dressed, there maybe some running involved." John watched his every move and raised his brows, "What? You want me to come with you?"

Sherlock paused and turned to his fiancé, that hankering, confused gaze hanging on John for a brief few moments before he replied, "I would be lost without my blogger. Yes, get dressed..." He gestured to the bedroom as he fixed his shirt and tugged up his scarf. A rather drawn out and frustrated sigh left John before he trudged back to the bedroom to change, leaving Sherlock to pull on his shoes and coat.

* * *

"I absolutely hate you Sherlock Holmes!" John screamed as they ran down a side alley, a few men in masks chasing after them. Sherlock smirked in response as he pressed off a wall to dive round a corner, John not far behind. "Keep up John!"

Oh god, John was keeping up. All he wanted to do was tackle his asshole of a fiancé and punch him but that would slow them down. He'd wait until they get home. The sound of many footsteps rang out down the busy street, Sherlock shoving a few people out of the way while John followed behind leaving a trails of 'sorrys' in his wake. If he had just listened to John the first time around they wouldn't be in this mess, if they had just phoned the police! Lestrade would have had his men here in minutes flat. But no! Sherlock insisted in stealing the files himself and rush through half of London with four rather dangerous men on their tail.

Yes, John Watson was going to kill Sherlock Holmes when this was all over and done with. Not in a way Sherlock had hoped either. A black mass of clothed flesh stopped John in his tracks, both somewhat tumbled forward and both barely had the chance to hold themselves up. Once they both hit the ground, John in a crumpled heap upon Sherlock who snapped his gaze up to the man who owned the feet before him and grinned, "Lestrade!"

The four men that were hunting the detective and his blogger down came skidding to a halt behind the heap of bodies and found that they were very much in trouble. Lestrade stood there with his gun raised and aimed at the leader of the four, "I suggest you put your weapons down and get on the floor. If not then I'd be glad to allow the British Government to take each of your lives and brush it under the carpet. Oh and you're all under arrest," He grinned and watched as all four of the men dropped their weapons and lay face down on the floor. In that second the armed team ran over and cuffed them.

Sherlock had managed to untangle himself from John before hopping to his feet, ruffled his curls and grinned at Lestrade, "Well done Inspector! It seems you are learning rather well. How is my brother by the way?"  
John was laying on the floor still, trying to get his breath back, "You sod! Bloody... cock!" He growled, "You did call the damn police!" Sherlock glanced behind himself and down at John with a laugh, "You really do underestimate me John!" He offered his hand which John took in an instant and didn't let go when he got to his feet. Lestrade glanced between them, brow raised, "So it's true?" He pointed to the way their fingers were laced which made John automatically go to pull away but Sherlock was having none of it. About time the public knew he was romantically involved with John Hamish Watson.

John didn't know whether to blush or die... or even both. In all honesty he had no idea how he was feeling this week and thus decided to stand there looking rather defeated. "Ok, well carry on. As for your brother, ask him yourself," Lestrade furrowed his brow in which he noted the smirk upon Sherlock's lips. Oh god, no, no he wasn't going to try and deduce him was he?!

"Well considering you'll no doubt returning to his home tonight and sleeping in his bed again then I am asking you because you heard from him last night and I didn't. Well not that I would want to by the look of your lips..." He pulled a face and went to walk past Lestrade who slammed a hand to Sherlock's chest. "One word of this to anyone then I will not hesitate to kill you," Lestrade warned but Sherlock just glanced at Greg and replied rather mockingly, "Wouldn't dream of it. If you do end up going down that route however, get in line. I have noticed John has acquired first dibs!" John snapped his eyes up to the two taller men and gasped. "Evening Lestrade!" Sherlock laughed and tugged John from the crime scene.

* * *

The lock clicked open to 221B Baker Street, a hand pressed against it before pausing and reaching up and pushed the knocker to the right. With that he then proceeded into the flat and take the stairs two at a time with John trailing up behind him. "I swear to god, next time you get all lovey with me before dropping a case on me like you did this morning, I will refuse. You cannot just use the act of kissing and cuddles to make me do things for you."

Sherlock threw his scarf over his chair and then tugged his coat from his body and hung it up. Not once did he catch the angry gaze of John during this process until he turned to see John still in his coat, "Sentiment is a chemical defect found in the losing side. You make it so easy for me to use against you and you fall for it every time." He leaned over and kissed John on the cheek who actually relaxed under that even though he really want to punch Sherlock in that moment.

"Yup, still hate you right now," John added and tugged his own coat off and threw it over the arm of his chair. With a ruffle of his short hair he head into the kitchen to grab some tea while Sherlock sat himself at the table with his laptop on. He pressed his hands together and leaned his lips upon the very tips of his praying hands. His eyes narrowed as he read a report that was emailed to him this morning before finally typing up an email with such slender fingers and utter grace.

John peered over Sherlock's shoulder, resting the tea on the table before him while his other hand grasped the back of Sherlock's chair. "John, what are you doing?" He muttered as John retracted from him and head over to his own chair. He didn't answer, as if he was angry, disappointed.

"I've done something wrong?" Sherlock finally moved his gaze to John, brow raised in confusion. John scoffed and ran his finger along the top of his cup, not wanting to make eye contact with the ever so beautiful man he wanted to be with but at the same time, wanted to kill as of now. Sherlock sat there, silent, waiting for it to get to John before he did finally retaliate. It happened in the space of a few minutes but not how he had expected it. "Is this... all a lie? Just to keep you and I as a duo, keeping me tied to this flat because you hate change?"

It was a startling, he thought John understood everything, that they trusted one another? This was something he did not expect in the slightest. What was he to say? If he said no, John would call him a liar, if he said yes (which was not true) John would be angry even more so. He went with the former of course, "No, of course not. Why on earth would you think that?!" He straightened up, unsure where this was going to go.

"If I am being used for your own personal issues then I don't see this going to work in the slightest," John had given up a happy family life because he knew who he loved and thought that same man loved him in return. Sherlock felt the air rush out of his lungs, those words cut deep and harshly. He gulped, mind reeling as he tried to find the words he needed, "John, are you suggesting we break up?"

John, after some time questioning everything, his gaze fell on Sherlock, jaw tense and eyes narrowed, "Yes, if you think sentiment and love is found in the losing side and you want to use it to your own advantage, then we're through. I won't... I won't stand..." His voice broke and he felt the need to sob softly but instead he slammed his index and middle finger haphazardly across his own lips and closed his before turning his head away.

Signs of guilt, remorse, upset... fear. It was as if Sherlock was witnessing John trying to silence the words falling from his mouth, words he did not believe in but felt he had to say. His fingers curled into tight fists as they rest upon his knees, his gaze not faulting on the man who was breaking himself up in order to keep his life sane as possible, to prevent his heart from shattering into a million pieces. "I never had the chance to tell you that I loved you because I knew you would laugh. I thought you would tell me to stop thinking, to not inflict my opinion on the world and when you didn't..." And by god Sherlock did not a single one of those things, "... I was so pleased and happy. I never thought I would hear that come from your mouth..." He hitched a breath, trying to quell the utter heartache he was feeling. "If my love is that much of a burden and that you never cared in the first place then I suggest we call it quits now before one of us gets hurt."

Statue still, not a word, not a single blink or twitch in his body, Sherlock merely let out a sharp breath. How could John possibly suggest such a thing? Sherlock had been infatuated by the man from the start, the only man who never thought him a freak or told him to leave. The only one to love him and here he was telling Sherlock that it was over. "No," Came the sudden dark tone of Sherlock's.

"No?" John questioned, tear filled eyes narrowing in an instant.

"No. I am not using you, not trying to keep you from anyone or everything because I struggle with changes in my life. I am not even sure you know what you are thinking or saying but then again when do you?" He breathed in before carrying on, "As for accepting your love, well I was thrilled greatly. I really was but god do you make it hard with that tiny brain of yours. I waited all this time for you to realise what you wanted, I waited and hinted and yet again you saw but didn't observe. I wouldn't have said yes to marrying you if I never wanted you, I would never have been so angry that you were with that damn Morstan woman and above all..." Sherlock paused and inhaled deeply thinking of what to add to that.

John stared at Sherlock, just as surprised as he was by the looks of things. They held each other's gaze in a rather intense manner for a few moments before Sherlock found what he was looking for, " And above all your love is not a burden, It is the one gift I treasure because I know every other gift I have been bestowed has been more of a curse so sorry if you... thought different."

With everything off of each other's chests, John began to laugh which made Sherlock even more confused than he was to begin with. "John, why are you laughing?"

John couldn't help himself, he tried to wave a hand as he giggled, trying to catch his breath but only failed. He began to cough before calming himself so he could gain air once more, "Sherlock you bloody idiot. Why... why do we do this to ourselves?"

"Why must you keep doubting me? You know for a fact how I feel about you," Sherlock retaliated before getting to his feet. John gazed up at him, why did he doubt Sherlock? He never knew why and he always questioned it, no answer in sight. Perhaps that was who he was, unable to trust anyone. Even the man he was in love with.

Sherlock stood before John, smiling down at him with such loving eyes, "John Watson, I do love you and I do want to marry you and I won't have it any other way." He offered his hand to him, John took it and got to his feet, almost nose to nose if John wasn't so short. His other hand came up to caress his cheek and a smile formed on John's lips in return, "Now stop being a moody git," Before John could protest, Sherlock was kissing him rather tenderly, slowly and deeply on the lips, not even thinking twice that John may have wanted to argue in return.

Whatever thoughts that John wanted to get off his chest, the anger or snarling, insults even, it was gone in a second when he tasted Sherlock upon his lips, his fingers fisting the shirt of his lover in order to keep him as close as possible. If he was to give this up then he'd fight to get it back. Why was he stupid enough to think that he could truly let go of Sherlock, ever?

As they kissed in the dim lighting of the lounge, lips tangled in a rather synchronised fashion, fingers grasping at the other desperately, John had decided that this was how he wanted to spend his life. Getting angry at Sherlock who obviously loved him dearly before arguing and then making up with the perfect kiss.

Too have an observant lover meant that John never needed to speak twice when it concerned desires, he never needed to fix things or beg for what he wanted. A flash of a smile, a crazed expression, the quicken of his heartbeat or a loss of breath. Sherlock knew in an instant what every tiny movement meant.

This meant the pair could argue over the little things and laugh about it after. John was happy with this, correction, he was incredibly elated and wanted that feeling forever.

Oh he was getting that, Sherlock was going to make sure of that.


	5. Replaced

_**Disclaimer: **_**As much as I'd love to own the lovely Sherlock Holmes and John Watson, I do not. All credit to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and of course the lovely BBC**

_**Bases**_**: JohnLock **

_**Characters**_**: Sherlock Holmes and John Watson **

_**Title**_**: Replaced**

* * *

_"S. Holmes_

_It was a matter of time in all honesty. Knowing the one person you had become so addicted to had just, left you. It was as if my heart had the hook finally removed, the very hook I had grown accustomed to. It was as if the etchings of their name in my heart had finally healed and left me with nothing but the faint hint of a memory._

_Walking away was the worst thing you could do, walking away meant losing you._

_They keep saying it gets better, but when? It's not changing anything for me. I'm worthless, I am. You have walked out making me feel replaced with the tender notion that you would return._

_How long do you expect me to wait, how long do you think I can hold out for, what makes you think this has not effected me at all? I built a life around you, I built a home with you. And what for?_

_I chose to give up life goals to be with you, I let people down because I put you first. I am starting to wonder if you were real, starting to wonder if you did ever feel the same way._

_This doesn't mean I am angry, or mad. I am just incredibly sad and lonely and the one thing that cured it the first time was the same thing that gave back the loneliness this time._

_Writing this is making it harder to see the screen for the tears are overwhelming, my heart is barely beating and the simple fact you are not here even more is making me crumble further. I suppose I should be grateful that it isn't 1857 for the paper would be soaked with the tears that I have produced._

_I suppose really this is my fault, all of it. I should have seen that once you were gone, I'd be alone no matter how many times you reassured me. I just want to know why, after everything we've been through, the times I was there for you and you for me. Perhaps before you left I said something wrong, that forced you to leave me in this hell hole alone and without you._

_Like he once said, it's always about trying to stay alive. How boring? Especially when there is no one or nothing to wait around for any more. Food is not worth my time, nor is sleep or fun or desires. I am numb with hurt and pain. It sears through me like lightening in the sky. God, if you knew, if I could tell you and now, now it is all too late._

_For a person whom I trusted so dearly, I cannot help but think you broke that a little. So much so that when I see you again, which trust me, I will. No matter how much you seem so joyous or rude or whatever you are when we meet once more, I will throttle you._

_Threats aside, hate aside (well lack there of), I am still aching after such a painful time. Nothing can compare to it and then you left and well... I did compare. My pick me up became my let down and thus left me an empty hole in a heart already so broken, once held together with the glue of your odd love for me._

_Now I have come to realise how blind I was when with you. It seemed all too surreal, too impossible, unbelievable. But it happened to me and I fell in love with the one person I never thought could even consider the notion of love. I cannot even tell you that now for you are not here and it's out of my hands. I just hope that you knew, deep down with your impressive skills of deduction that you were aware of just how much I loved you._

_I wish for nothing more than to tell you I love you._

_J. Watson"_

Sherlock traced his finger along the edge of the laptop as it hummed upon the desk. At the time, it seemed John had the inability to type as well as he planned. Who could when all you could see was a blurred and messy world through tears that seemed to fall without a single hint of stopping.

Why had he not seen the pain John was suffering?! Oh gosh he was a fool. The echo of footsteps on the stairs caught Sherlock's attention and thus closed the window down for the time being and carried on with writing something on the other document he had open. Trying not to get caught out by John for reading things on his laptop, Sherlock tried to act as normal possible. Forgetting of course that he was in fact typing on John's laptop because it was closer to him.

John trundled in, hanging up his coat on the hanger before turning to Sherlock and furrowed his brow, "That's my laptop." A finger pointed to the red coated machine that sat on the desk, Sherlock's slender fingers all over it in a rather quick concession. "It's not hard to get into your laptop, John. Especially when it is based upon sentiment and my ego wouldn't allow me to think you would not use my name. You are a ball of sentiment and my ego is huge... hardly much of a guess?"

John stormed over to grasp up the laptop, closing the lid on it and marched into their bedroom to stash it away. Sherlock's fingers hovered for a moment over the now empty space before lacing them together, lost in his thoughts.

In the bedroom and the doctor had sneaked a peek to see what Sherlock had been doing on his laptop. The first page he pulled up was nothing more than his blog, obviously mid way of typing up yet another tobacco type he had somehow managed to find. His eyes were drawn to the task bar at the bottom, his head tilted to see a document had been drawn up. John thought nothing of it to begin with, this was Sherlock after all and never tilted anything within his folders, that was until he saw the full name as the mouse hovered over it.

The sudden beat of his heart stopped, breath caught in his throat. The small box that flicked up after hovering over the document link for a moment, read '_Untitled. That's what we are._'  
Oh god, Sherlock had found a letter to him that he never had the chance to print off. He was venting, that was all. Why had he not deleted it, for the love of god! Now all those aching feelings flooded him, eyes tearing up as he read over the words.

Sherlock had found himself in the doorway of their bedroom, watching his fiancé study the document that he, himself had not long read. "Why did you believe in me for so long after everything I said to you?"

John snapped his gaze up at the curly haired beauty he had fallen in love with and let a smile touch his lips. "No man could do what you did, Sherlock," The lid closed on the laptop, now tucked safely away in a locked draw. John pocketed the key to it and turned to Sherlock, "Even if it were all a lie. You still had the mental capacity to put the whole fraud together on every account, either way you were still a deducting genius. Either way I still fell in love with you."

A blush tainted Sherlock's cheeks, a soft chuckle escaping him as fingers preened his unruly curls, "John it could have been easily pulled off. Look in the right places then anyone could look you up, just as much as if they were to look me up." A finger was pressed to Sherlock's perfectly defined lips, John shook his head slightly in return, not wanting to hear this right now. "Can you just go back to being Sherlock Holmes please? It puts me in a panic when you get like this. Even more so when you try to show that you could be a fraud even though we both know that you are not."

The couple stared at each other for some time, a comfortable silence and an adoring gaze that would over come them quite often. Conveying such silent messages between the two and in such a beautiful way. "Ok, fine. I'll return to the moody thoughts I was having and give you hell, yes?" Sherlock finally spoke, failing in keeping a straight face. This made John smile, a smile that Sherlock found rather endearing. "You know what I mean!" John protested before tugging him down into a short yet tender kiss, the type that were just right no matter how long they lasted.

Once parted, pale eyes met darker ones, smiles matching, "I have to marry this soon and if you change now, I might have to reconsider a lot of things." John teased, a soft chuckle on his lips. Sherlock was still getting used to the term of marriage, after all it was a bit of a whirl wind in these recent months.

Sherlock nodded slightly, that small smile on his lips, "Of course, Watson. My apologies, I shouldn't have looked through your things. I was curious to why you would write such a thing and now I know why." He allowed his thumb to trace John's jaw line before pressing a light kiss to his forehead, "Now I am in here I best pick up my own laptop..."

In that instant John threw his hands in the air, how could he even be surprised by this, "Sherlock Holmes, you are quite frankly unbelievable!"

"Yet you wouldn't change it for the world, as you keep on insisting. Now excuse me, I have work to finish before I can let you become a distraction in the bedroom!" Sherlock leaned past John to retrieve his laptop, hearing John's breath catch in his throat along with that cute squeak that came with the shock. Oh it was so beautiful! Sherlock grazed his lips across John's temple before strolling back to the kitchen, laptop under his arm and leaving one rather surprised John to dwell on thoughts of erotic pleasure for that evening.


End file.
